_ CHAPTER XVII. "A FINE THING, NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS"
After the noonday meal, on the day of Captain Horn's departure, Mrs.
Cliff went apart with Maka and Cheditafa, and there endeavored to find
out, as best she might, the ideas and methods of the latter in regard to
the matrimonial service. In spite of the combined efforts of the two,
with their limited command of English, to make her understand how these
things were done in the forests and wilds of the Dark Continent, she
could not decide whether the forms of the Episcopal Church, those of the
Baptists, or those of the Quakers, could be more easily assimilated with
the previous notions of Cheditafa on the subject. But having been married
herself, she thought she knew very well what was needed, and so, without
endeavoring to persuade the negro priest that his opinions regarding the
marriage rites were all wrong, or to make him understand what sort of a
wedding she would have had if they had all been in their own land, she
endeavored to impress upon his mind the forms and phrases of a very
simple ceremony, which she believed would embody all that was necessary.
Cheditafa was a man of considerable intelligence, and the feeling that
he was about to perform such an important ceremony for the benefit of
such a great man as Captain Horn filled his soul with pride and a strong
desire to acquit himself creditably in this honorable function, and he
was able before very long to satisfy Mrs. Cliff that, with Maka's
assistance as prompting clerk, he might be trusted to go through the
ceremony without serious mistake.
She was strongly of the opinion that if she conducted the marriage
ceremony it would be far better in every way than such a performance by a
coal-black heathen; but as she knew that her offices would not count for
anything in a civilized world, whereas the heathen ministry might be
considered satisfactory, she accepted the situation, and kept her
opinions to herself.
The wedding took place about six o'clock in the afternoon, on the plateau
in front of the great stone face, at a spot where the projecting rocks
cast a shade upon the heated ground. Cheditafa, attired in the best suit
of clothes which could be made up from contributions from all his
fellow-countrymen present, stood on the edge of the line of shadow, his
hands clasped, his head slightly bowed, his bright eyes glancing from
side to side, and his face filled with an expression of anxiety to
observe everything and make no mistakes. Maka stood near him, and behind
the two, in the brilliant sunlight, were grouped the other negroes, all
very attentive and solemn, looking a little frightened, as if they were
not quite sure that sacrifices were not customary on such occasions.
Captain Horn stood, tall and erect, his jacket a little torn, but with an
air of earnest dignity upon his handsome, sunburnt features, which, with
his full dark beard and rather long hair, gave him the appearance of an
old-time chieftain about to embark upon some momentous enterprise. By his
side was Edna Markham, pale, and dressed in the simple gown in which she
had left the ship, but as beautiful, in the eyes of Mrs. Cliff, as if she
had been arrayed in orange-blossoms and white satin.
[Illustration: Reverently the two answered the simple questions which
were put to them.]
Reverently the two answered the simple questions which were put to them,
and made the necessary promises, and slowly and carefully, and in very
good English, Cheditafa pronounced them man and wife. Mrs. Cliff then
produced a marriage certificate, written with a pencil, as nearly as she
could remember, in the words of her own document of that nature, on a
leaf torn from the captain's note-book, and to this she signed
Cheditafa's name, to which the African, under her directions, affixed his
mark. Then Ralph and Mrs. Cliff signed as witnesses, and the certificate
was delivered to Edna.
"Now," said the captain, "I will go aboard."
The whole party, Edna and the captain a little in the lead, walked down
to the beach, where the boat lay, ready to be launched. During the short
walk Captain Horn talked rapidly and earnestly to Edna, confining his
remarks, however, to directions and advice as to what should be done
until he returned, or, still more important, as to what should be done if
he did not return at all.
When they reached the beach, the captain shook hands with Edna, Mrs.
Cliff, and Ralph, and then, turning to Cheditafa, he informed him that
that lady, pointing to Edna, was now the mistress of himself and Mok, and
that every word of command she gave them must be obeyed exactly as if he
had given it to them himself. He was shortly coming back, he said, and
when he saw them again, their reward should depend entirely upon the
reports he should receive of their conduct.
"But I know," said he, "that you are a good man, and that I can trust
you, and I will hold you responsible for Mok."
This was the end of the leave-taking. The captain stepped into his boat
and took the oars. Then the four negroes, two on a side, ran out the
little craft as far as possible through the surf, and then, when they had
scrambled on board, the captain pulled out into smooth water.
Hoisting his little sail, and seating himself in the stern, with the
tiller in his hand, he brought the boat round to the wind. Once he turned
toward shore and waved his hat, and then he sailed away toward the
western sky.
Mrs. Cliff and Ralph walked together toward the caves, leaving Edna alone
upon the beach.
"Well," said Ralph, "this is the first wedding I ever saw, but I must say
it is rather different from my idea of that sort of thing. I thought that
people always kissed at such affairs, and there was general jollification
and cake, but this seemed more like a newfangled funeral, with the dear
departed acting as his own Charon and steering himself across the Styx."
"He might have kissed her," said Mrs. Cliff, thoughtfully. "But you see,
Ralph, everything had to be very different from ordinary weddings. It was
a very peculiar case."
"I should hope so," said the boy,--"the uncommoner the better. In fact,
I shouldn't call it a wedding at all. It seemed more like taking a first
degree in widowhood."
"Ralph," said Mrs. Cliff, "that is horrible. Don't you ever say anything
like that again. I hope you are not going to distress your sister with
such remarks."
"You need not say anything about Edna!" he exclaimed. "I shall not worry
her with any criticisms of the performance. The fact is, she will need
cheering up, and if I can do it I will. She's captain now, and I'll stand
up for her like a good fellow."
Edna stood on the beach, gazing out on the ocean illuminated by the rays
of the setting sun, keeping her eyes fixed on the captain's boat until it
became a mere speck. Then, when it had vanished entirely among the lights
and shades of the evening sea, she still stood a little while and
watched. Then she turned and slowly walked up to the plateau. Everything
there was just as she had known it for weeks. The great stone face seemed
to smile in the last rays of the setting sun. Mrs. Cliff came to meet
her, her face glowing with smiles, and Ralph threw his arms around her
neck and kissed her, without, however, saying a word about that sort of
thing having been omitted in the ceremony of the afternoon.
"My dear Edna," exclaimed Mrs. Cliff, "from the bottom of my heart I
congratulate you! No matter how we look at it, a rare piece of good
fortune has come to you."
Edna gazed at her for a moment, and then she answered quietly, "Oh, yes,
it was a fine thing, no matter what happens. If he does not come back, I
shall make a bold stroke for widowhood; and if he does come back, he is
bound, after all this, to give me a good share of that treasure. So, you
see, we have done the best we can do to be rich and happy, if we are not
so unlucky as to perish among these rocks and sand."
"She is almost as horrible as Ralph," thought Mrs. Cliff, "but she will
get over it." _